


Clarity

by AuroraNova



Series: The Vadari Chronicles [8]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Deadly Sins Garak/Bashir Fest, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 22:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19304830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: “You called to tell me about Garak’s date?”“No, I called to tell you he went on a date and I had an epiphany.”Julian really needs to work on his emotional self-awareness. He'll get to that once he figures out what to do with this latest revelation.





	Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to zaan, whose comment on "Closer" got me thinking about the idea of Garak going on a date with someone other than Julian just as I was considering a Deadly Sins fic for the series. 
> 
> If you're coming in from Deadly Sins without reading the previous works in this series, the basic premise is as follows: shortly after the end of the war, Julian was dismissed from Starfleet, ostensibly because they rethought the precedent they were setting but really as Section 31's revenge. Garak left Cardassia, officially because he was in danger; we're not sure the details of why he actually left, but it's a sacrifice for the good of the state one way or another. They start over together on the remote Federation moon Vadari VII, where they're roommates.

The community has reached a milestone in recovery from the wartime devastation, Julian is happy to report. “We’re looking at months before we have personal replicators again, but with the solar energy grid mostly back online, we can get replicated ingredients again in the stores.”

And a good thing that is, because ecologists had been growing alarmed about the rapid depletion of the moon’s edible animals. There’s now a complete moratorium on seafood harvesting until populations recover. Julian has eaten enough seafood in the past months to last him a long time.

“I thought the Vadari moons are agricultural colonies,” says Ezri. Julian has the day off, and they’ve finally lined up the time difference for a live call.

“They are, and most people prefer cooking with what they call ‘genuine’ ingredients, despite the hassle.”

“I can taste a difference. There’s less nuance in replicated food.”

Julian considers that a fair trade for convenience. “Either way, the focus is on crops. We need protein, as meat was always intended to be replicated.”  

The idea behind the moons is that together, they not only feed themselves but provide plenty of extra food for the sector. It worked until the Breen showed up.

“Speaking of crops, have you tried Vadaran cider yet?” Ezri asks.

Outside the sector, most people have only heard of Vadari VII on account of the cider. Some thirty years ago, not long after the moon was settled, the original colonists started planting a hybrid of Earth apples and a Betazoid fruit tree. The resulting product was no good for eating, but some enterprising soul tried turning it into hard cider and thus created a popular beverage.

“It’s not bad,” he says. “Much better than the raw sen-apples, which I can’t recommend.”

“I should see if Quark carries it.”

“I’ll send you a bottle,” says Julian. The orchards took a lot of damage (the Breen obviously don’t bother to focus on targets of military value or concern themselves with civilian death and destruction), but the storage cellars made out much better. There is cider to be had.

“Thanks. Is there anything you’d like?”

“I don’t need anything, but I wouldn’t turn down Tarkalean tea.”

“Extra-sweet infusers?”

“Actually, regular sweetened will do just fine.”

“Really?” asks Ezri, surprised.

“Sweeteners were at a premium, and I got used to having less. Now I can’t drink extra-sweet.” Garak found this far too amusing when Julian made a face at his first extra-sweet tea in months. Julian figures he’s healthier for not spiking his blood sugar, which he’s always known but never managed to put into practice until given no choice in the matter.

“So how’s the cooking going?”

“I haven’t burnt anything in weeks,” he says. It’s a notable improvement. “I’m not good, but I’ve worked up to passable. Last night I made a soup completely from scratch, by which I mean bones.”

“I haven’t done that in a hundred years,” says Ezri, and it doesn’t hurt now when she sounds like Jadzia. Julian can remember Jadzia and cherish Ezri without feeling like he’s doing either of them a disservice. “That’s great, Julian. Ben would be proud.”

Julian likes the idea. He’s always respected Captain Sisko, and the more he became aware of how challenging the galaxy can be, the more his esteem for the captain grew.

“I’ve got to go or I’ll be late for my first appointment,” Ezri tells him.

“We can’t have that.”

“Very unprofessional. We’ll talk soon?”

“I’d like that.” He’s glad to be in touch with Ezri again. It was better for them to take a break from contact after they split up, yes, but it’s good to have her as a friend once more.

“Take care, Julian.”

“You too.”

“Oh, and tell Garak I said hi,” she adds before signing off.

A few hours later, when Garak gets back from his business day, Julian therefore says, “Good evening. Ezri says hi.”

“And how is Lieutenant Dax?”

“She’s well, and has finally talked Quark into a low-stakes tongo night.” Personally, Julian doesn’t see what’s so enthralling about tongo, but Jadzia thought it was a lot of fun, and Ezri inherited her love of the game, if not the inclination to bet more than a few slips of latinum.

“Not an avid gambler, I take it.”

“No, but she enjoys the challenge.”

“Give her my regards when you next speak. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to change.”

“Making something messy for dinner?” Garak has designated cooking clothes and will wear nothing else when he’s preparing food, lest he ruin the good outfits of which he’s protective. Something about the material being difficult to replace.

“No. It’s your night to cook, and you’re making it for yourself. I have a date.”

Julian knows what the words mean, but somehow he can’t put them together with Garak. “A date. You have a date.”

“You needn’t act so surprised.”

In his own defense, Julian says, “I’ve never seen you go on a date.”

“No one has ever asked me,” replies Garak, and Julian is certain he’s missing subtext here while his brain conjures up the dissonant image.

He asks the obvious question. “Who’s the lucky person?”

“Plestrendetrek.”

Evidently Ktarians are Garak’s type. “I had no idea you were interested in him.”

“I don’t know if I am. That’s the point of a date,” says Garak, disappearing into the bathroom before Julian can disagree and state there should be some level of interest already. The tell-tale thrumming of the sonic shower soon follows.

A few minutes later, Garak emerges in his dark green outfit, hair freshly combed, adjusting his sleeves as he goes. “Well? How do I look?”

“Since when have you agreed with my taste in fashion?” counters Julian, who’s not about to say he looks very classy.

“Let me rephrase. Do I look exactly the opposite of how you would dress for a date?”

“Yes.” For one thing, Julian would go for a more vibrant shade of green.

“Excellent.”

Julian goes to the drawer where he keeps Garak’s hypo doses. “Let me give you potassium before you go.”

“I can’t wait until I can replicate Cardassian dishes and you give up fussing over my potassium levels.” This is Garak’s best longsuffering voice, unconvincing though it may be.

“It’s one hypo every other day,” says Julian. “And you don’t want those muscle twitches coming back on your date, do you?”

Garak hmphs, but presents his wrist for the treatment all the same. “You could at least let me administer my own hypos.”

“This serum is concentrated enough to be a controlled substance.” A single dose sufficient for Garak’s needs would push Betazoids into hyperkalemia, and Ktarians dangerously close. Julian raised eyebrows at the hospital when he prescribed it for Garak undiluted. “Besides, you’d give yourself bruises.”

“I’m sure with practice I’d learn the subtle art of hyposprays, and you’re presuming I didn’t break into that pathetic excuse for a secure box the night you brought it home.” Potassium injected and grousing done, Garak checks his appearance in the bathroom one final time.

This is a new side of him, and Julian is not sure what he thinks of it.

“Have fun,” he says as Garak heads out the door.

“Thank you.”

It figures that Julian finally got through all 490 long stanzas of _The Mantrian War_ and Garak isn’t sticking around to talk about them.

Well, he has the apartment to himself for the evening, and might as well take full advantage. He puts on the twenty-second century orchestra music Garak doesn’t like and decides to make his stir-fry with turmeric, which he hasn’t used since the first attempt because Garak declared it revolting.

He passes the time while cooking arranging his thoughts on _The Mantrian War_ , refining his arguments and taking into account previous poetic sagas. At least Garak was right about one thing: this book doesn’t glorify war. Quite the opposite. It’s so critical it was banned on Cardassia for a hundred and fifty years.

Julian has a hunch Garak did not, in fact, only recently manage to acquire this book when censorship was relaxed out of necessity (what remains of the Cardassian government is overwhelmed at present), but in fact has been merrily reading black market literature for years.

He wonders how the date is going.

He’s due to exercise, so after dinner he does some calisthenics and occupies his brain considering what book to have Garak read next. There’s a famous novel about the early space colonists he’s been meaning to read for a while, but lately he’s trying to work in some Vadaran literature as well, or at least works from the non-human cultures represented on Vadari VII. Garak delights in disdaining Betazoid books as overindulgent. That’s always fun.

After his workout, he showers, starts the vaccubot, and sits down to read a new medical journal. It doesn’t go well. He keeps getting distracted thinking about Garak on a date, maybe favoring Plestrendetrek with that one smile.

He shakes his head and dives back into advancements in treating scarred lung tissue. That lasts three sentences before the truth hits him like a phaser blast.

He’s envious.

Not of Garak having a date, which might be understandable. No, this is far worse. He envies Plestrendetrek being on a date with Garak.

The new technique for scarred lung tissue has to wait. Right now Julian needs to reassess a large part of his life, and he doesn’t even know where to start or, for that matter, how he managed to miss this. He’s not completely unaware that he can be too good at hiding unpleasant truths from himself, but wanting to be on a date with Garak? That’s a new magnitude of self-denial even for him.

Not that he’s never considered the prospect, but it was some five years ago, and he quickly rejected it as one of his worse ideas for several reasons. Two of those reasons don’t apply any longer, as he’s neither hiding illegal genetic enhancements from a very observant man nor a Starfleet officer who’s already raising enough concern just being friends with a former Obsidian Order agent.

They’ve both changed. They grew apart, then back together, and Julian doesn’t want to risk ruining what they have. Their friendship is far too important for that. Besides, Garak has never given any indication beyond some general flirtation, and some people are naturally flirtatious. Jadzia, for example.

It’s at this point Julian remembers Garak wouldn’t even suggest they start using each other’s first names, because apparently Julian’s higher social status meant it was his place, not Garak’s. It’s hardly a stretch to imagine that extending to any romantic overtures.

He flings the padd onto the other side of the couch and drops his head into his hands. Obviously it’s time to work on his emotional self-awareness. Just as soon as he figures out what to do with this new revelation.

* * *

 

Forty minutes later, he’s decided his concerns fall into two broad categories. (Concerns about dating Garak, that is. How he managed not to realize the extent and nature of his feelings is a problem for another day.)

One: he doesn’t want to lose what they already have. Garak is the most important person in his life now, and Julian is terrified of risking their friendship. After all, it was hard enough with Ezri. He moved to a different sector and they still didn’t speak for four months. It would be worse with Garak – which might say something else he’s not going to probe too closely just yet.

Two: this is Garak, a man whose morals have never aligned with Julian’s and never really will. There is absolutely nothing Garak won’t do if he deems it in Cardassia’s best interest, and that’s not even getting into the fact that if he decided it was an acceptable idea, he’d be on the next transport to Cardassia Prime. None of this stops Julian from wanting him, apparently. (Julian is no longer a stranger to arguing the ends justify the means, though he hopes never to reach that point again. He wonders how much that experience allows him to understand Garak.) It might even work between them now. But that’s far from a certainty, which brings Julian back around to concern number one.

Julian’s entire romantic history consists of leading with his heart, and that’s blown up in his face more than once. He’s determined not to make the same mistake again. He has to give this careful consideration.

He also needs some outside perspective, but that’s going to be tricky. Miles will be biased on the ‘are you out of your mind?’ side. Ezri… that’s complicated, because they’ve only been back in touch for a few weeks now, and he doesn’t want to make her question his commitment to her while they were together. It seems unfair to dump all of this on her. Kara doesn’t know the long, morally questionable backstory, and there’s no way he can possibly explain it to someone who wasn’t there.

Nights like this call for synthehol. Unfortunately, there’s not a drop to be had. Julian settles for a single glass of cider, which is low alcohol by volume and not as satisfying as a pint or two of synthale.

Wondering what he’ll do if Garak’s date goes well and leads to a relationship is not helping anything.

After another half hour of running in mental circles, he decides to set the idea aside for an entire day and revisit the following evening. It’s moderately successful, in that he manages to get back to the medical journal, even if he does catch his thoughts drifting a few times.

When Garak returns, he does his best to act normal. “How was the date?”

“Fine.”

“That’s hardly a ringing endorsement.” Or is it his wishful thinking taking over? God, this is a mess.

“It was a single date, not a lifetime commitment. I’m simply exploring my options.”

Julian sees an opportunity to gather information and goes for it. “Does this mean you’re considering long-term arrangements here?”

“If you’re fishing for information about the possibility of my return to Cardassia, you’re not doing a very good job hiding it.”

“Who says I was trying to hide?”

“I think it very unlikely that I’ll be able to return,” says Garak, in an uncommon example of forthrightness.

Julian thinks fate has been very cruel to his friend. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Yes, well, it’s still an odd custom,” Garak says, and Julian understands it means he’s not about to accept any more sympathy or questions about Cardassia.

He tries for a different subject. “Will there be another date?”

“I don’t know. Possibly.”

Garak doesn’t seem especially invested in Plestrendetrek. Julian wonders if that means he has a chance – presuming he decides he’d like one, that is.

* * *

 

He doesn’t make it an entire twenty-four-and-a-half-hour day before he revisits the idea of a relationship with Garak. The following evening after his shift, he comes home to a message from Garak – _I’m working late on a rush order_ – and a video from Miles.

The video begins starts with a waving Molly sitting on her father’s lap in their living room. “Hi, Julian!”

“Molly has a favor to ask,” Miles says.

“Ms. Brezina gave us a new project today. We have to interview somebody who did something unusual, and it can’t be Mom or Dad. Can I interview you about moving Yoshi from Mom’s belly to Nerys’s? Please? It was definitely unusual.”

She is growing up fast. Last time Julian heard, Keiko and Miles were still Mommy and Daddy, and now they’re Mom and Dad. Well, she’s almost ten years old now, so it’s to be expected.

Miles suggests, “Why don’t you tell him a little bit more about the project, sweetheart.”

“Okay. First, I need to think of eight questions and two follow-up question. A follow-up question depends on the answer to the first question.”

Julian can’t help but smile at that.

“Then, I have to ask the questions, and if I think of more follow-up questions, I can ask those, too. After the interview, I have to turn in a transcript, which is when you write up all the questions and answers together. I also have to send a thank-you note to the person I interviewed, because it’s important to say thank you. Ms. Brezina is going to turn all the transcripts into a big book for the class bookshelf.” She leans in closer, looking intent. “Everyone in class says mine will be really good, because I lived on Deep Space Nine where lots of amazing things happened, so it needs to be awesome.”

“Remember what your mom and I told you about doing your best,” says Miles.

“I know,” Molly says. To Julian, she explains, “I’m not supposed to worry what other people are saying, only do the best project I can. But I still want it to be great! So can I interview you, please?”

Julian isn’t at all sure he wants to be interviewed, but this is a fourth-grade assignment, not the Federation News Service. He’s never spoken much about the procedure. Despite the massive potential for an anecdotal paper, he didn’t write one out of respect for Keiko and Kira’s privacy – and of course, at the time he hadn’t wanted anyone looking too closely at just how much biological data he’d memorized in order to perform an untested interspecies fetal transfer with no major complications.

Keiko says something offscreen the microphone didn’t catch.

“I have to go. It’s Japanese time. Sayonara!” With a final wave, Molly hops of Miles’s lap and heads offscreen.

“She’s getting really good at Japanese,” says Miles. “According to Keiko, I mean. Damned if I can tell. Anyway, she’s got her heart set on you for this interview. I hope you don’t mind. Let me know. Kira’s our backup plan, but I’m not sure how that would go over.

“I have assignments to grade. I’ve decided papers aren’t as bad if I assign mock engineering reports instead of your typical paper. Hope you’re doing well.” With that, the video ends.

It only came in an hour ago, so Miles should still be awake. The time difference gets tricky with the extra half hour in each Vadaran day. Julian really needs to talk to his best friend, biased or not, so he initiates a call.

Connecting to Earth takes a few minutes, and then Miles is on the screen in his home office, which is liberally decorated with Molly and Yoshi’s artwork. There’s a new clay piece which vaguely resembles a sehlat.

Miles’s décor makes Julian and Garak’s apartment look absolutely sterile by comparison. The only items which personalize their place are paper books, of which Julian has more than Garak, and Garak’s beloved red leaf tea tree.

“Hi, Julian,” says Miles.

“Good evening. I trust you can spare a few minutes from your grading?”

“I could use a break. Some of these kids need the practice at writing reports, or it could get ugly on their first assignment. How’re things on Vadari VII?”

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that. But first, tell Molly I’ll do her interview.”

“Thanks. It’ll mean a lot to her.” And, by extension, to Miles as well. “Is everything okay?”

Miles is one of the few people who knows the real reason Julian was discharged from Starfleet. They’ve hinted at it here and there, but never mention Section 31 in any conversation. As far as Julian can tell, Section 31 doesn’t know about Miles’s part in stealing the cure for the morphogenic disease from Sloan’s brain, and he intends for that to remain true.

Moreover, Miles is the only person besides Garak with whom Julian has felt it’s safe to vent his frustrations over the discharge. He can probably include Ezri again, as well, but it’s still a short list. Miles was obviously worried at first, and Julian gave up pretending to be fine early on.

Julian is still working on making his peace, a process greatly helped by knowing how much his contributions matter here. That, however, is not what’s on his mind right now. “Yes. Nothing much has changed, except Garak going on a date last night.”

Miles squints incredulously. “You called to tell me about Garak’s date?”

“No, I called to tell you he went on a date and I had an epiphany.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“I don’t want him dating anyone else.” Saying the words out loud doesn’t make them seem as absurd as he’d half expected. “I was envious.”

“Because you wanted to be the one on the date with him?”

Julian nods.

“We all wondered why he didn’t make a move years ago.”

He means Jadzia, Julian is sure. “About that. You know how I mentioned we’re on a first-name basis now?”

“Yes.”

“It turns out I had to make the suggestion, after an appropriate amount of time by Cardassian standards which, come to think of it, he never specified. It’s a social status issue. Mine is higher, apparently. It stands to reason this applies to any romantic or sexual overtures as well.”

“Oh,” says Miles. “If this was anyone else, I’d ask why he didn’t say so.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I doubt it.”

Julian points out the obvious. “You’re not launching into a spiel on why this is a terrible idea.”

“If you’re hell-bent on dating Garak, I’m not gonna be able to talk you out of it,” says Miles, which is true, but Julian wouldn’t say he’s reached the point of hell-bent yet.

“That’s the thing. I want to, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“It probably isn’t, but since when has that stopped you? I mean, being his friend was never the best idea, either.”

“And I wouldn’t change a thing,” Julian says. He sighs. “I’m afraid to ruin a good friendship.”

“I thought this was about Garak being, well, Garak.”

“That’s part B of the problem. Though it’s starting to worry me less than I feel it ought to.”

“Of course it is,” says Miles. “You and Garak have always had this weird understanding, and damned if I can make sense of it.” He sighs. “Look, Julian, I’m not saying I think it’s a good idea. But if you want this and don’t go for it because of what you think you should do, you’ll regret it.”

Ah. Julian knows how Miles feels about regret. Once, when a bit tipsy, Miles mentioned how bitterly he rues not bringing Molly to meet his mother, thinking there would be plenty of time. His mother died never having met her granddaughter.

Julian thinks to that conversation and wonders if, should he decide not to even broach the idea of a relationship with Garak, he could feel the same ache in the future. It’s a distinct possibility.

“That’s a very helpful perspective,” he says.

It’s no surprise when Miles feels the need to add, “Just be sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Is that ever entirely possible?”

“If you’re going to get all philosophical, I need to break out the whisky, and then I’ll never finish my grading.”

Julian holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, philosophy is off the table.”

“That’s better.”

“In all seriousness, you’ve given me good advice. Thank you.”

“I have my moments,” says Miles. “Let me know what you decide.”

“It’s not entirely up to me.”

“Garak followed you to Vadari VII, didn’t he?”

“That could be platonic,” Julian replies.

“It could be, but this is the man we all thought was interested in more.”

“Was, yes. What if that time has passed?” Julian thinks of his infatuation with Jadzia, and how glad he eventually was that they hadn’t done anything to jeopardize a precious friendship.

“Only one way to fine out,” says Miles.

He’s right, of course. Julian is considering this when he hears a thud, followed by the unmistakable sound of a wailing child coming from the other end of the comm.

“Damn. That’s Yoshi jumping around and falling off his bed again. Gotta go.” With that, Miles cuts the connection and leaves Julian with his thoughts.

While he mulls over potential regret, he has something to do. Seeing Molly’s latest artwork on display inspired him to pull out the box he stashed in the closet, the receptacle for a few items from his quarters on DS9 with which he didn’t want to part. It’s time to stop treating this apartment like a temporary stopover and start making it his home.

He eyes the rooms and the contents of his box. The apartment is small, but he can still personalize it a bit. The single painting he took with him, a colorful original for which he paid handsomely when he took shore leave in Jo’Kala, is easy enough to hang on the wall over the computer terminal. (He remains convinced that this support of Bajoran art was the first time Kira smiled at him like she meant it.) He’ll move it later if Garak objects to the placement. Well, if Garak objects with real intent, anyway.

The Sector Racquetball Championship trophy can go back in the closet. While he doesn’t want to get rid of it, neither does he see any need to put it where guests might see it and think he’s clinging to days past, and there’s no shelf space in the bedroom.

Though the apartment isn’t spacious, it’s well-planned to make good use of space. This includes a built-in bookshelf which isn’t quite full, so he puts his Risan rock sculpture there, between _Shakespeare’s Collected Tragedies_ and a case of Garak’s data rods with more texts.

Next he takes out an ornate pair of silver candlesticks. He’s never been particularly interested in candles, and in fact hasn’t once used this set for the intended purpose. They were a gift from Trevean, an expression of gratitude on behalf of the Teplans for his antigen and the chance for their future generations to live free of the blight, and to Julian a powerful reminder of the need for humility in his profession.

On one side of their door there’s a set of coat hooks below a shelf. He tests to make sure the shelf is able to hold the weight of the candlesticks, and finds no difficulty, so he spaces them evenly and calls it good.

Finally, there’s Jadzia’s brass sculpture. When Quark got a series of artisan class holosuite programs, she decided to try her hand at metalworking. She then had the replicators recreate any pieces of which she was particularly proud. This one she gave to Julian, telling him, “You’ve lived here too long for your quarters to be as bare as they are.”

He sets that on the hitherto-unused end table and smiles. Jadzia would’ve approved.

An hour later, Garak comes home and eyes the new additions. His eyes tighten ever so slightly in disapproval at the painting, which is probably too colorful for his taste, but he just says, “Decorating without me?”

“I decided it’s time to stop living in stasis.”

“Then you won’t object if I were to make a tasteful fabric wall hanging for the bedroom.”

“Not at all,” says Julian.

It’s time to start moving forward, and he’s increasingly sure he wants to move forward with Garak in a more intimate fashion. Still, a bit of further consideration seems prudent, so he pushes the idea aside for the moment and does his best to simply appreciate the friendly company.

Besides, they still have _The Mantrian War_ to discuss.

**Author's Note:**

> So, obviously, the deadly sin here is envy. ;) Though it's sort of an instructive take on the sin, really.


End file.
